


Redux Shorts

by Kyubahubba



Series: Redux Universe [2]
Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:35:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 11,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22441165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyubahubba/pseuds/Kyubahubba
Series: Redux Universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614811





	1. Perseverance

_Move.  
  
Why aren’t you moving?  
  
_“I can’t.”  
  
_Why? Your legs are fine. Your lungs can still hold breath within them. Look up, look at me. You moved your eyes, good._

_Tell me, human, do you wish to survive?_

“W-what are you?”

_Does it matter to you? If I am the path to your survival, would you bother with discovering if it is rough or calm? I am incomprehensible to you, mortal, an explanation would simply strain your mind. Answer my question. Do you wish to survive?_

“Of course I do! What kind of person wants to die in this mess?!”

_Why fight in it then?_

“What do you mean ‘Why fight in it’? The Emperor called us to defend our country and our homes, what choice did any of us have?”

_You have so many questions. Entertain me, then, if your desire for survival is strong. You claim the Favored One has called upon you and the others among your ranks to defend what you call a home. Has he, mortal? Is Michael not wasting your lives to defend his family’s claim to Our Favor? Or to defend his son?_

“F-favored One? What? The Emperor has always sacrificed his well-being for the good of his country and so has Lord Nieson! He would never throw his country into a meat-grinder if it were up to him. The Alaereans and the Linereans were the ones who started this war.”

_You are a child. You think like a child, mortal. You do not understand those above you, so you choose to trust them. Do you trust me?_

“Do I trust a magic voice from the sky that started talking to me after I was thrown to the ground? Sure.”

_You stand defiant when I offer you salvation. How amusing. I suppose this is why the Old Dog admires you so much. Mortals have a perseverance most of us lost millennia ago. It’s your perseverance that made you withstand us, after all. Apologies for my verbosity, human._

“…It’s fine, I think? You said you were my path to survival. How am I supposed to survive this?”

_Move. Your legs are fine. Your lungs can still hold breath within them. You have served the Favored One as well as he has served you and your brethren, and that is why I wish to see you survive this conflict between your people, as I saw your ancestors survive the conflict between the Brothers. Stand, soldier, and forge your path to survival. My favor is upon you._

“If I stand now, the Linereans will just shoot me down, are you crazy?”

_The favor of your God of Protection is upon you. Do not question my will, mortal._

* * *

With that, he stands up and he runs. He doesn’t care about the revelation of a God speaking to him. He doesn’t care he might be another puppet being pulled by the endless strings of the divine plane. Lunae granted him survival and he wasn’t going to waste it.

Shots were missing. Vinsburg was destroyed and thousands laying beneath its rubble, but he could still move, his legs were fine, his lungs could still hold the breath his muscles craved to keep going. He kept going, not minding the incredulous look of those watching him run like his life depended on it (and it did, because a God made it so, and divine favors as few and rare as they may be, are absolute).

His perseverance granted him survival.


	2. The Old King and the Two Princes

A long, long time ago there was an old, proud king sitting upon his throne. Oh, how proud the king was, for his country stretched far and wide, even beyond the Great Sea that so many lives had claimed for so many years. His kingdom had conquered it like his great ancestors had done when they settled his land, and how rewarding was the conquest! None other could be as proud, for his country flourished, grew, developed… How proud he was! How rightful was his pride… How _weary_ had it made him.

The reign of this weary king was coming to an end, like all things must, and he knew. All others in the kingdom knew, for time was not something humans had in abundance, not even those who last in memories, not even those who did their utmost to tame it as the Thunderous Falcon did, and the king’s neck had grown tired and frail from how long it had been supporting the heavy and burdening crown upon his head. His rightful pride could no longer hide it.

This old king had two sons. The older, calm and wise beyond his years, led his father’s ministers when his eyes were too weary to read proclamations. Under him, order and stability were maintained for decades. The younger, rasher and adventurous, led his father’s armies when his arms were too weary to raise his sword high like all generals must. Under him, conquests and victories were earned beyond the sea. Both were so different, yet worthy of the crown. The king knew this, too.

Time passed and for him it grew shorter. So short it was that the old king called his two sons. And, sitting upon the throne with all the pride he rightfully had, the king said:

‘There is only one crown, yet I sense both of you shall be kings in your own right.’

The reply of his sons was short. ‘We know, father. All know.’ The old king could not help but see truth in it. How right they were, yet how naïve were their minds. All knew, yet none could see how costly it would be.

Time passed and the older brother was king in all but name in his father’s old island while the younger brothers pleased himself with finishing his father’s ambition of conquering and establishing his kingdom in the new island. The kingdom still flourished, but not all of it! No… The old stagnated and settled while the young expanded and grew.

Time passed and claimed the old, proud and weary king, like he knew it would. And so did his crown. As natural order said it should, it fell on the head of the older brother. He was content, and so was his _kingdom._ The younger brother was not, and neither was his _empire_. And they fought. Like every war does, it started with disagreement expressed by words.

‘The kingdom has grown large and it prospers!’ claimed the older brother. ‘You must stop and settle what we already have, my people deem it so!’

‘No! My people want innovation and pride while their king has neither! Father wished to expand the borders of his kingdom and so do my people!’ countered the younger. ‘You have stagnated, brother, and so has the mainland. Father said we would both be kings and you should not push my people into making his words come true by force!’

Outrage. Any king would feel outrage hearing the words of open rebellion against the crown coming from any of their subjects. Even more so coming from the mouth of a brother he once cherished, hoping do to nothing other than what he thought was best for his country and his people. He knew what his father meant and he now knew how costly it would be to make it come true, yet how impossible to keep it from happening.

The words continued. Crowds were rising, some cheering the young and others the old, some calling for war and others for peace, some waiting and others watching. They too knew what the king meant and now they too knew how costly it would be. When all were determined to win and refused to back down, the war started.

This war was started by the old against the young, but all knew there were truths in the words that were said. While the young earned their might with a sword, the old earned theirs with the pen. While fleets upon fleets were built and armies upon armies were gathered beyond the sea, the mainland sat and watched. The old had stagnated while the young had not. Yet none could win for none were willing to finish the other.

The older brother did not lack vision. He knew how costly, how _unfair_ it would be to keep the younger chained. He knew he could not do it. And the words, quiet and soft at first, started to be heard again. ‘Peace!’ clamored the old. ‘Freedom!’ chanted the young. The two brothers heard each other once more and spoke.

One weary and proud country perished and two new were forged by the sword and the pen: an old kingdom, calm and wise, and a young empire, adventurous and rash.

Now, the two brothers were kings in their own right.

* * *

The young child lying on her bed was not satisfied. ‘Is that really what happened, grandpa?’

The elder beside her chose not to answer the question immediately and instead turned off her lamp and tucked her in, content with his granddaughter’s lively spirit. ‘Hell if I know. Don’t they teach you that in History class or something? You have to get up early tomorrow so sleep.’

‘But I don’t want to, grandpa! I want you to tell me more about how Voltarea showed up!’ She replied, undoing the careful tucking the old man had put so much effort into.

He sighed and shook his head before staring at her with his weary eyes. ‘Don’t you remember the story? Once the two brothers started arguing, a war broke out. Go to sleep and I’ll tell you another one tomorrow.’

The child scoffed, clearly unpleased with being unable to find a suitable response. ‘Fine! But I want it to be longer!’

He smiled and left the room while thinking about the mess he had got himself into.


	3. Grief

_I sense your anger, but I feel it is a result of something else. The Children are still as remarkable creatures as they were before our apotheosis._

She tries to stem the flow of tears with her tissue, to little avail. Something filled her with a sense of company, yet she remained as alone as she was.

“Who are you?”

_You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Child.I wish upon you no harm, lay at rest. I merely seek conversation._

“What could we possibly talk about? _**What**_ are you?”

_I am an admirer of the Children._

_Let us put this matter to rest, my will is thus. Tell me, what is the object of your anger? Has the Favored One displeased you? Have your brethren caused you harm?_

“This war makes no sense.”

_Or perhaps understanding it is above you._

Tissue gripped, she slams her hand on the bowl upon the table. The bowl is broken, her hand is bleeding. It doesn’t matter, neither have value comparable to what she lost.

“Why should I care?! My son, h-he…”

_His time has passed?_

“It shouldn’t have! He should have never left. Most of them don’t even know why they’re fighting, they just want to defend their home!”

_It is not anger you are feeling, then. It is grief. Am I correct, Child?_

“You can think whatever you want, I don’t even know what you are.”

_Yet you acknowledge me._

“Because you keep talking.”

_I converse because you choose to persevere, Child, even after a magnanimous loss. It is what makes you all admirable. When the conflict between the brethren seemed lost, your son kept his hope. The Favored One and those serving him chose to continue the fight, because they believed it was what should be done._

_Your son’s time passed for hope.It passed for you, for the one living beside you and the one in front. It’s why you continue, it gives your life meaning._

“He didn’t have to die for that. Our children should not be fixing the mistakes our parents and we made years ago with their blood.”

_And that is why you feel anger. You believe you failed to protect him, that it was your duty to keep him alive. You have the heart of a mother._

“I was a mother.” Her tears flow again, but she is calm, silent. She feels at home again for the first time in weeks.

_Your son remains alive in memory. Let your emotions flow, Child. They have no direction because they are not supposed to have it. They make no sense because logic and thought cannot justify your loss._

_I am an Old Wolf and I have seen endless grief during my existence. In spite of all the pain you cause each other, you can still love and laugh with such an intensity! It is why I protect your dead and grant them My Favor, as I have done to your son._

“What do I do?”

_Persevere, as you have done countless times. The end of the conflict will not be the end of the battles, though it will stop the blood flow._

“But when will it end? What will come after it?”

_The future is for the mortals to create, not Us.That We realized a long time ago._


	4. Numb I

‘Why can’t I feel?’

_Are you sure you cannot feel, young one? Perhaps you wish not to feel and your body follows your command._

‘What?’Joseph looks around, but there is nothingness. Just nothing.

_I am in your mind, child, looking for me is a pointless endeavour._

‘Who are you?’ He asks. A pointless question, yet one that anyone with a sanity would ask a voice inside their head. Joseph was pretty sure he had none left.

_Humans and questioning go hand in hand, but you’re always so eager to reject the answers standing right in front of you. Do you believe in Gods?_

‘Are you one?’

_Direct. I am the one that sponsors the Order brought on by your Crown and the Favored One._

He’d gone crazy, wonderful.

Joseph lets out a dry laugh. Is it annoyance at the divine he’s feeling or is he amused by the way his mind choose to go off the rails? ‘At least I won’t spend the next few minute alone, I have the falcon inside my brain. How do I know you’re not just sleep deprivation talking to me?’

_Am I also questioning the validity of your existence?_

This God is a sassy one. Nice. ‘Why is a God talking to me, then?’

_Even we grow bored, mortal, I am finding a way to amuse myself and perhaps help you. I reiterate: can you not feel, or do you choose not to feel?_

‘Does the difference matter? I can’t feel anything, not matter what my answer to your question is.’

_That seems to be no hindrance to you. Were you questioning it merely for the sake of questioning?_

He hopes this is as complex as a deity’s vocabulary gets, because tired as Joseph is, following Talendae’s speech is becoming bothersome. ‘It is a hindrance! It bothers me. What point is there in doing something if you get on pleasure out of it?’

_That’s a rather hedonistic statement. Do you only do things if they please you?_

‘Nothing pleases me anymore, that’s the issue.’

_Do them until they please you, then._

‘It’s not that simple.

_It is not?_

Joseph sighs. Who would’ve thought a God would be this naïve? ‘Have you ever heard of depression, Falcon?’

_The Cat has told me is it a problem your kind has. I do not converse with humans often, or for long._

‘I can tell.’ He notices he’d lost awareness of his surrounds after he started talking with Talendae. He’s heard stories of others, people whom the Gods spoke to. They all have one thing in common: they capture your mind in a way that you stop being able to focus on anything other than them, and they’re able to do it with just their voice.

Their physical appearance would drive anyone mad, if they willed it.

‘Have you come to talk about anything specific?’ Joseph asks.

_The previous subject amused me, but it is clear it is not a pleasing one to you. I wish to learn more about it at a least date, when you’re willing._

Sassy, blunt, naïve, yet polite, respectful, and curious. Talendae’s a complex creature, he thinks.

_We converse, yet I wish not to intrude into your mind further than I require to do so. What is your name, child?_

‘I’m Joseph.’ He replies.

_You fought in the War, the conflict between your brethren?_

‘Yes.’

_What do you make of the Favored One?_

The Favored one. It’s what the Imperial Cult calls the Emperor and his predecessors. 

‘I fought for him, for my country. That’s all there is to it.

_Do you believe the War was just?_

The War, just? Is any war just?

‘The War wasn’t fair to anyone in it.’

_It was a war waged in the name of the restoration of Order. The Favored One attempted to stop the conflict between your brethren from starting, but he could not._

‘Just because I think the War wasn’t fair, or just, or whatever you want to call it, it doesn’t mean I think the Emperor is to blame for it. The current one, at least.’

_Are you sensible to the political happenings of your Home?_

‘I read the papers, watch the news. I did what I could to keep up with the internet while the War was ongoing. I wouldn’t call myself an expert on politics, I just bothered to stay informed and learn about what was happening around me.’ He replies. Joseph notices he’s sitting on the couch, the television is on. He’s at home. His home. He still can’t quite make the details of what’s around him, or what on the TV, or what the couch he’s sitting on feels like. He can’t remember much about it either, though he thinks he should, given how much time he spends lying on it.

_Do you resent them?_

‘Who? The Linereans and Alaereans? They were fighting for the same reason I was, to defend their homes. At least that’s what they were told. Thousands of them died in the name of pride and ambition. How would I resent them if I told you I can’t feel a thing?’ The walls surrounding him are not white, but almost. Perhaps it’s beige. Are they closing in?

_You have fallen into a routine?_

Joseph thinks. ‘I get up and I… do nothing. I just think about lying down again. Since the War ended I feel like doing nothing because there’s nothing to be done.’ The things around him stopped getting clearer.

_You mean there is no one to tell you to do them, as there was before._

He stops. The couch is dark-brown, almost black. Just like bitter chocolate. Was it hunger he felt? He couldn’t tell. He hasn’t felt it much in a while, the sensation is no longer familiar to him.

_Clairvoyance._

‘I see.’

_Do you feel?_

‘No.’

_Disappointing._

Joseph laughs, a small and simple chuckle. It’s the second time he laughs today, and the first genuine one this week. How could a God sound so dejected?

_Do you enjoy it, seeing what surrounds you as you are doing right now?_

Maybe Talendae’s more aware of Their effects on humans than he lets on, he reasons.’I suppose this is what a child feels like, noticing something new all the time, slowly. It’s what we are to You, isn’t it? Children?’

_It is what we call you, yes. Whether it is because of endearment or condescension, it varies._

‘Why do you call me child, then?’

_Because that’s what I see beneath me. Your age pales in comparison to mine and so does your knowledge about the world, though you have much to offer about yourself and those around you._

‘I’ll take that as an expression of endearment then. I always expected you to be more… imposing. God of Order and all that.’

_It is the truth that my sphere encompasses Order and, consequently, peace, but it is you mortals that see us as Gods._

‘It’s hard not to worship a huge flying thunder bird, you know?’

_Your ancestors had no trouble waging war against us until Makae and his brethren engineered peace between my kind and yours._

Joseph starts thinking again. According to his history lessons, most of humanity united itself against the Titans in a Commonwealth, and it came tumbling down a few centuries after the dragons intervened and the Old War ended. ‘I suppose you’re talking about the Convention?’

_That is the name given by the Children to the peace, yes. I suppose Makae’s deed was of such magnitude and grandiosity, it is natural for him to be seen as divine._

Could that be resentment? Or even jealousy? ‘You do not see Makae as a God, then?’

_We do not. Makae is without doubt the greatest of the dragons, but even he is flawed. Whether he is killable or not, it is unknown to me, and my curiosity is limited by my own sense of self-preservation._

‘Maybe it’s our view of what a God is that’s wrong.’ Joseph answers.

_How so?_

‘Maybe Gods can be as flawed and mortal as humans are. Maybe what makes a God is a deed, and not their nature.’

_Perhaps. Makae’s apotheosis succeeded after be brought peace. Your theory is correct, going by his example._

Joseph focuses. He can feel the couch now, it’s so soft!. Could it be wool. He can’t afford linen, can he? The television is on the news - the reconstruction efforts are still ongoing and Prince William is said to be gathering foreign aid to the Empire.

_You feel._

‘I do.’

_You are no longer numb, You feel what you sit upon, do you not?_

‘It’s… not that simple.’

_Yet you also feel hunger, which you hadn’t in a while._

Talendae’s… right. It’s true Joseph hadn’t felt an urge to eat in months, and it had become more of a chore and an habit rather than something done out of need or pleasure.

‘I certainly feel… reinvigorated?’

_It pleases me to hear that._

Did he just befriend a God?


	5. Peace of Mind

_Michael._

He knew that voice. He would recognize it anywhere. He’d heard it countless times before (or had he felt it? He had no way to be sure.).

_Something bothers you._

He releases a small grin, controlled, restrained and calculated, though worthless to this God.

‘Talendae is often the one concerned about my state of mind, Great Dragon.’

_I have asked you not to address me as such in the past, old friend. Your avoidance of my inquiry is concerning._

‘You have no reason to worry. I was just wondering whether he’d be disappointed.’ He says. All statues looked judgmental, if you thought hard enough. The one he was sitting in front of certainly did.

_Why would Frederick be disappointed by your actions?_

‘Am I not a tyrant? The purpose of his reforms were to rid the country of them. In theory, at least.’ Though he’s disagreed with that being the only reason countless times in the past.

_Tyrant?_

‘The Emperor is meant to be a check on the internal powers, according to him.’ The grin has disappeared, a thin line crossing his face. He lets out a nasal huff. ‘Not the central figure, but one of the three.’

Michael stands up, tired of being hunched over his knees, fingers intertwined. He was raised and educated to be as regal as those resting within this place, but the older he got, the more time passed, the more difficult it got. 

Was it his body withering or was it his mind? He didn’t know which of the two would be worse, not that it mattered much. The embodiment of the Empire could not afford to be seen as human.

_He is the one that consecrated the extraordinary powers you hold in your…_

‘Constitution.’

_Yes. Many say my knowledge is endless, it would be wonderful to see their reaction at my ignorance of human creations._

‘They’re quite young, compared to you. Not that long ago, most leaders justified their position with your blessings.’

_It bothers you to hold so much sway over your Home, then._

‘It does.’

_Why is it so?_

‘I have told you already, friend.’ Though his answer was not completely honest in nature. Why should he care about what a dead man he never met thinks? He’s far too tired to brood over it.

_Seizing the power that belong to you by human law was the correct way to achieve the peace you sought._

‘A peace that isn’t liked by plenty of my subjects. You’d be surprised at the quantity of warmongers in the Senate that shouted for us to take the war to the Alaereans and Linereans.’ He grumbles, trying to conceal his despise of the rising dissent and words of opposition to his actions. Democracy granted them a place in life, unpleasant as they may be to hear. ‘As if they’re not our own people.’

_The ambition of a few can be deadly. Talendae is pleased by the restoration of Order. His sphere was the one most grieved when concord was broken._

‘We haven’t spoken since the Armistice agreements. How is he?’ Michael asks. Of all the Gods, Makae and Talendae were the ones closest to him.

_He fares well. I believe he sees the current situation as an opportunity to learn more about your kind and from what I have gathered, he might have even developed a few new bonds._

‘Friendship between us humans and those beyond us can be quite cruel, can’t it?’

_Indeed it can. I fear I have learnt that through the harshest means possible._

‘So has he.’ He imagines. 

_How goes your son?_

‘He’s preparing to go abroad.’ Michael says. ‘He’s our youngest diplomat at the moment, as a matter of fact.’

_I have conversed with the other Titans. They speak of intent observation, many leaders abroad were watching you and your Home closely._

‘I’m sure a lot of them are delighted by our ruin.’

_On the contrary, the restoration of normalcy has soothed them. Did they not offer you aid during the conflict?_

‘Our closest allies and some of those vaguely aligned with us did, yes. Though we still have no idea where their armament came from.

_The answer will soon become apparent, I am certain. Let us return to the Crown Prince. Has his leg healed?_

Ah, William’s leg. Memories he buried not so long ago surfaced, but the Emperor cannot afford to acknowledge them, it’s not the right time nor is it the right place. Makae has also carefully avoided this subject for several years, something must have changed. 

He sits down once more, back straight, now in front of the first statue in the room. The Hall was becoming bothersome to his eyes. It kept getting brighter whenever he came.

‘He still limps lightly if you see him walking for long, and I know it still bothers him from time to time, mostly during the night. Nothing out of the ordinary.’ Not that William needs to be aware that he knew about the pain or the limp, though. He still hides the scars that cover his leg with conscious intent.

_His friends?_

Michael’s mind stops and he thinks about the question. Children will start treating you differently just because of who you are, even if he did his utmost to grant his son a childhood as normal as it could he could afford to be given.

Instead of being unsurprised by the lack of friendships William has, at least in number, he chose to pleasantly acknowledge how close he’d grown to one of his classmates.

‘He’s got close to one, Nathan Kensington, I believe. I have yet to meet him, though I suppose inviting a child to the Palace would leave both of them uncomfortable.’ Michael doesn’t know how the young man’s family had been affected by the war either, what their views on the monarchy were or how they would react to their son being a friend of the Imperial family. There’s no point in ruining William’s friendship by overreaching.

_I am pleased to see his development. He was quite reclusive after the incident._

‘He was’. With reason. It only happened because of Michael’s and Prime Minister Caldwell’s naïvety.

_Talendae conversed with him on a regular basis during that time period. Do you still… beat yourself up over it? I believe I’ve heard that expression being used by a young one in your Home while on a incognito stroll._

Michael smiles, but its genuineness is questionable. Gods trying to act human? It’s an amusing thought, but still terrifying.

‘Irrelevant.’ He states, succinct and simples enough to show his disposition toward the subject. ‘As far as I am aware, they still talk as often as we do.’

_It seems you are not fully certain about many of your remarks regarding William._

Michael blows the air in his lungs through his nose and mouth this time, loudly enough to be heard by those near him, not that anyone was. Why was the Dragon showing interest in becoming his therapist, he wondered.

‘My son doesn’t speak to me often, Makae, not since the incident. I do not blame him for it.’ The Prince always tensed up in the presence of people, no matter who they were. ‘Whether I like it or not, Talendae’s personality suits William quite well and he has nothing to fear in the Falcon.’

_He does not, that is certain._

Michael’s gaze shifts left, toward the Hall’s main entrance. His transport should have arrived by now.

‘I’m afraid I must leave. There’s an important appointment I must attend and being late wouldn’t do wonders to my image.’ He says. ‘Before I go, may I ask you to do something for me?’

_If it is within my grasp the favor is yours, my friend._

‘Can you ask Talendae to convince William to being his friend to the Palace? I think if the initiative is his, it’ll be less… awkward.’

_If that grants you peace of mind. Though I wish to continue our first conversation at a later date, in return._

Michael rises to his feet rather quickly, buttoning up his blazer and making sure the suit was straightened. Wearing the Imperial uniform, an emblem of what the Alaereans and Linereans were fighting against, to the meeting would be too aggressive to the eyes of the proud people surrendering themselves to him.

He leaves the tomb light on his feet, though the weight on his shoulders hasn’t gotten any lighter. The Guards bow their heads as he approaches, their leader meets him after the Emperor replies with a light nod to their courtesy.

‘The motorcade is ready, Your Majesty.’ He states curtly, as most of them were. It doesn’t prevent them from being good company, if the situation requires it.

‘And Nieson?’

‘The Prime Minister is already on his way, sir.’

‘Thank you, Thomas. Let’s beat him to it, shall we?’

The definitive treaties of surrender were being signed that day, allowing the Empire to return to peace after years of war.

It didn’t bring him any peace of mind. The price he paid in an attempt to avoid the war was high, the price his people paid to end it even higher. This was only the start of the next chapter.

Reconstruction was beginning.


	6. The Statues

_Your architects certainly outdid themselves while designing this building. It is well-built as well._

‘Given how much we invested into it, it’s only logical. What brings you here once more, divine friend?’ Michael asked, no hint of irony or ill-meaning in calling Makae such a thing. Perhaps another God would consider it disrespectful, or if it were done by another mortal, but not by the Favored One.

_Would you mind telling me who these fine statues represent?_

He looks around, though he’s aware Makae knew these people far better than the knowledge his country has preserved of them until today. Decorations, differing in size and splendidness, from marble sculptures to well-preserved oil paitings and white and blue tapestries depicting the monarchy’s coat of arms adorn the gigantic tomb the Voltareans call the Resting Hall.  
  
The four greatest of Michael’s predecessors earned a statue in it, each with a unique depiction, fitting of who they once were in life:  
  
‘The first one, from the left, with the sword and the ornate armor. Lucian the Victorious, the first of our Emperors.’

_The young one who rebelled against his brother, incited by his people._

‘That’s how our country came to be.’

_The statue suits him. Lucian always had an extremely proud aura surrounding him, powerful enough to fix all gazes upon his figure whenever present._

‘Beside him is Emily the Second, the Wise. The Empire only experienced a period of prosperity greater than hers once, after she passed.’ The statue, feminine in figure, though regal nonetheless, had a benevolent tone to it, as if it were representing a kind mother. Perhaps Lucian’s daughter, the first Emily, was more worthy of that epithet.

Michael wondered what kind of features artists would choose to depict him, but he didn’t have much time for such thoughts.

_The third one?_

‘Stephen the Great. He united the island without bloodshed, that alone would be worth a place among the greatest. Our naval might and our prosperity were never greater, I dare say we were unmatched by any back then.’

Michael walks over to the fourth, slowly, looking at it as if expecting it to come forth and greet him.

‘Frederick the Third, the Reformer. He’s the one who devised the balance of power between the… then-four Crown, our appointed Governments and the elected Senate and local Parliaments.’

_The one who limited his own power and of the ones who came after. He had always been a supporter of giving power to the masses and bringing democracy to your Home._

‘He was also a man with an incredible sense of self-preservation. Justifying absolute power with the favor of the Gods is only tolerated by those beneath you in status for so long.’

_Quite, and nothing would earn Talendae’s wrath quicker than your family being responsible for the Chaos that denying’s the people’s demands would bring._


	7. Numb II

_Greetings._

Oh Gods he’s back. Should Joseph even be asking them for help, seeing how he’s one of them?

His surroundings have gotten blurrier again and he can’t quite recall where he is. Many sensations became foreign to him after the War ended, but this one he’ll never be able to get used to.

‘Hello, Talendae. What brings you here again?’ He asks.

_I came to see how you fare. It has been a while since we last conversed._

Three weeks, to be precise. The peace treaties were signed just two days ago but that was when the Armistice was declared.

‘I’m… better? I think.’ It’s not a lie. Joseph certainly looked livelier, credit to Talendae where it’s due, and life stopped being so robotic. ‘The Army has called me back into service.’

It seems plenty of former soldiers were finding their place in the Guard and the Security Services, and the Armed Forces were reluctant to let go of so many people when the Reconstruction project was in its infancy. 

_How pleasing. The restoration of Order to your Home has also brought me much joy._

‘It’s made all of us happy, no matter what you might hear those idiots in the Senate say.’ Senator Garner seemed more than eager in criticizing the Emperor for not continuing the War while we had the upper hand, likely because the chances of him ever setting foot in the frontlines were null.

_Makae often says the ambition of a few can be deadly, in particular to those beneath them. The opinion of the warmonger matters little, the Favored One’s word is final._

‘Ending the War was hard, but getting us back on our feet will be much harder.’ Joseph notes. ‘People like Garner are smelling the blood in the water.’

_Many will rise to counter them. You have become an adept at the balance of powers in your Home, I cannot imagine why you should not be one of them._

‘No, thanks’.

_How blunt._

‘Reminds me of a new friend I made.’

_Amusing._

Hah, he made a God laugh! But politics aren’t for Joseph. A piece in the chessboard cannot be moved without repercurssions, concessions, agreements. If there’s one thing he likes in both Talendae and the Army is how straightforward and simple things are. 

‘Speaking of new friends, am I the only person you speak to?

_You are not._

The environment around him was mostly clear again, it seems whatever makes his mind fuzzy gets weaker the more he talks to Talendae.

‘So, who are are the lucky ones?’ He smirks.

_I have yet to question you about your own bonds, Joseph._

He lifts his hands in defeat. ‘You’re right, you’re right..’ It’s better not to push his luck.

_Sensation has returned to you, has it not?_

‘Somewhat, let’s leave it there.’ He answers curtly. Not a subject he’s particularly fond of addressing.

_I seek to discuss it further, though I will not press you against your wishes._

‘I appreciate it.’


	8. Nobleion

Michael examines the map set on the table. 

It depicts the whole Voltarean Empire and on it were several figurines, not very different from toy soldiers you’d give a child 100 years ago.

With him were three people: Oskar Nieson, the Prime Minister, Christopher Byrne, Minister of Defense and Lucian Pachemary, Minister of State Security.

Byrne waves his hand across the map, motioning to the area where the Linerean and Alaerean borders touched. ‘Occupation and disarmament are going well, though there are still a few pockets of tension in the region.’

Nieson scratches his chin, thoughtful look on his face. His growing beard must be bothering him, but not enough to compromise his focus. ‘Have we gotten any information on where they got their weapons from?’

‘I’m afraid not, Prime Minister.’ Lucian replies. He has the kind of voice you’d struggle to hear in any room that wasn’t quiet. Whether the tone he used was a conscious power play or an unconscious flaw nobody knew. Not much was known about the Duke of Pachemary in general. ‘The technology used can be traced to their countries of origin, but it’s nothing you can’t find in the black market.’

‘In quantities to arm whole armies?’

‘You’d be surprised by how much garbage wound up in unwanted hands after the Octonian Republic crumbled.’ It’s Byrne’s turn to answer. He reaches for the whisky that was always present in these types of meetings (and Michael should consider himself lucky Byrne didn’t bring the vodka instead) and fills his glass again.

‘That is not why you were brought here.’ Michael takes a sip from his own glass (he doesn’t need any refills yet, thank you) and lets out a short huff of air through his nose. It was becoming a far too common occurrence lately. ‘The War is over but we must take steps to prevent something like it from ever happening again.’

‘It is a centuries-old issue, the rivalry between Linereans and Alaereans.’ Lucian says.

‘It reached such a point that not even their rivalry with us Niesoneans and Voltareans were enough to balance it.’ Oskar adds.

‘It did. I will spare you a history lesson as I’m certain you three are more than knowledgeable about our country’s politics, but this is an artificial problem. Consequently, the solution must also be artificial.’

Byrne glances at Michael. ‘Sir?’

‘The Kingdoms have been little more than autonomous administrative regions since Frederick the Third. It’s within my right as Emperor to create another royal title, the Government and the Senate can handle the administrative affairs of it.’ Michael states.

‘…you want to create a whole new kingdom out of two already existing ones?’ He asks.

‘Yes.’ Is the succinct reply.

‘Carving what can amount to a new nation out of two warring ones will be a challenge, to say the least. Especially when it’s dictated by a third they were also fighting against. Nieson says, and he isn’t wrong. Michael is certain plenty had this idea before. None of them held the Crown right after a victory in a civil war, however.

‘This new… kingdom. It will lack the history and culture the existing ones already have, creating a new identity for it will take decades, if not centuries. Will it have parity with the others?’ Lucian asks.

‘I believe that is the best.’ Michael says. ‘We should grant them a parliament and the same degree of autonomy Alaerea, Linerea and Nieson have, along with everything else.’

‘Nations are rarely created through decree.. This might just end up creating another point of contention.’ Says Byrne, taking another sip from his cup. Is it sign of doubt or just an habit?

‘That may be true,’ Michael concedes, as he sees little point in denying what is an easily reachable conclusion, ‘But if they’re too focused on this fledgling Kingdom they won’t be at each other’s throats, or ours. Soon enough, it will become a counterweight to them.’

‘The Linereans will be the hardest to convince. They’ll lose a considerable amount of arable land.’ Oskar notes, motioning Byrne to pass over the whisky bottle. Linerea’s influence has always relied on being the Empire’s breadbasket.

‘Yes, but they have the weakest position at the table.’ Lucian replies, taking a sip from his own cup. He hasn’t finished his first yet. ‘If we play our cards right, we might be able to see this through and spare future generations a headache.’

‘Agreed.’ Michael says. ‘Do any of you have any suggestions for its name?’

‘During our time in the commonwealth, one of the three great families, apart from yours and the Alaerean, was called Nobleion.’ Lucian answers, staring at the map intently.

Oskar looks at Byrne, who limits himself to shrugging. ‘I’m the only here here without blue blood, you can sort it out.’ His eyes shift back to Michael, who raises no objection.

‘Nobleion it is.’


	9. Numb III

_Joseph._

Oh no. He’s back. Starting conversations on a first name basis too.

Joseph drops the book he’s reading, making sure he doesn’t lose the page he left on. Would the Falcon be offended by also being called by his name?  
  
‘Hello, Talendae.’ 

_How do you fare?_

He wasn’t offended, it seems.

‘Good, good.’ He replies. His surroundings are still blurry. Joseph guesses it’s because of how long it’s been since they last interacted, not that they do it often in the first place. Soon enough, the mist surrounding him starts to dissipate.

He was… reading, right? Yes, that’s it, he just dropped his book. He hadn’t been paying much attention to it, whatever was on the TV was bothering him. What was it?

_It’s been a while since we last spoke._

Joseph chuckles.

_What amuses you?_

‘Nothing worth mentioning.’ He says. ‘You just dropped the whole conversing thing and said spoke instead, almost like…’ …a normal person.

Such frightening thoughts should not cross his mind so lightly, but Joseph chooses not to dwell on it. Divine being or destructive monster, Talendae has shown nothing but interest in befriending and learning more about something as frail and inconsequent as himself.

‘Nevermind that. What brings you here again?’ It better not be the whole sensations thing.

_It is not._

**Oh no.** He was listening. He **_is_** listening.

_My apologies. I have not been capable of limiting my powers as efficiently. I did not mean to intrude. Please mind your focus to your television._

‘Are we not going to– okay, if you want to leave it there we’ll leave it there.’ Doing as he was told, Joseph focuses on clearing his surroundings even further. His vision, touch and hearing have mostly returned to normal, but dividing his attention is a more tasking challenge.

Not an unattainable one, however, since he does manage to catch on to a few things the reporter-looking man is talking about: _‘…confirmation that Micalian, Fordusian and Ercsian troops are crossing the border in order to aid the Vixtusi Cons-…’._

Ah, he came to talk about the Vixtusi Crisis.

_I have._

Still creepy, he thinks.

_I have been told._

‘You’re not helping, you know.’ Joseph mumbles. He rubs the back of his neck and lets out a wide yawn. How did he get so tired? ‘What about Vixtus?’

_I seek your thoughts on it._

Scratching his cheek, he thinks. ‘Vixtus was one of the many regions of was one of the many regions of the Octonian Republic. When it crumbled, not long before the War started, the Vixtusians were divided on whether to join Archus’ and Sedonia’s union or become a fully-fledged nation.’ He states. That’s what he’d gotten from the news during the War.

_It is a crisis of identity, in your opinion._

‘Well,’ he hesitates. ‘In a way, I assume it is.’ Though most of its fuel has come from Archusi and Micalian plotting than anywhere else.

_It has been a long conflict, has it not?_

Longer than the War, he’s about to note, but chooses not to. Talendae’s listening in, regardless.

‘It has and it’s a disgrace that it’s only reaching the headlines now.’

_Why is it so?_

‘Because we stole the spotlight.’ Joseph murmurs, a slight look of guilt crossing the features of his face. It did not sit well with him, being a former soldier and all, to draw away from the importance the Voltarean Civil War had and the waves it set upon the world.

_You believe the conflict went on largely ignored because of the issues within your Home?_

He huffs.

_I require no further answer._

‘It’s how we are, Falcon.’ He says, running his hands through his hair absentmindedly. It’s gotten long, maybe it’s time to cut it. ‘Some person tripping in a country like ours makes the news more often than the three hundred that died in a distant would-be republic with limited relevance in the world.

Vixtus is the trend now in the same way we were the trend three months ago. The eyes of the public will soon shift somewhere else.’

_Your line of thought is interesting yet understandable. I do believe your brethren lack the tendency to brood over several situations for long periods of time._

You’re not wrong, he muses.’ I’m as guilty of it as any other guy, though. Why the sudden interest in a foregn war, though? Is Vixtus even a part of…’ What word did Talendae use again? Domain?

_All Order is a part of my sphere, but you are correct in assuming that Vixtus is not. Another of my kind focuses on it and she worries. So does William._

‘W-william?’ He trips over his own words at the sudden mentioning of the name. ‘William as in, Crown Prince William?’

_Yes. I mentioned you are not the only one I conv- speak with before, did I not?_

‘Yeah, but you didn’t mention you were friends with the Prince!’ He shoots back.’

_You never inqui- asked._

Now Joseph doesn’t stop at a chuckle, he laughs. ‘Am I right in thinking that’s the Prince’s influence in the words you’re choosing?’

He swears he hears a sigh.

_It is true that William has been trying to, in his own words, ‘make you stop sounding like a six hundred year old knight’. Though my existence has prevailed for well over six thousand years, that is no justification for me not to be more… hip. In accordance to him._

‘Yeah he…’ Joseph pauses for a moment. ‘He’s always been the most human out of them all.’

_He certainly went through difficulties not that long ago._

‘I assume you’re talking about the Caldwell Incident?’ He asks.

_Correct._

‘Yes. It’s why I’m so glad to see him getting better now.’ He says, a slight smile across his lips. How much of that improvement is a facade, though?

_Have you been informed of his recent endeavor?_

‘The Tour? Everyone knows, it’s been all across the news.’ Joseph answers. ‘But wait, let’s go back. How old did you say you were again?’

_Over six thousand. The Cat and I were discussing the fact that despite Time being within my Sphere, my mastery of it is so insufficient I do not know how old I am to precision. I fear only Makae or one of his brethren can give you the duration of my full existence._

Makae, Joseph thinks. The Great Dragon, God of Knowledge and Peace. The Dragons have not been seen for centuries, yet in a moment their survival was confirmed so casually. It’s still strange to him how easy it is for Talendae to refer to Lunae as the ‘Cat’.

_He’s a plotting bastard._

‘You don’t like him?’

_I do. But I do not. Reducing such a complex matter to a trivial answer would be foolish. Let us change the subject. What are your plans for the future?_

‘I uh… remember how I told you politics weren’t for me?’ He smiles playfully, scratching the back of his head.

 _Yes_.

‘Well…’ He gestures with his hands, still grinning.

_I do not understand the meaning of your gesticulation._

Joseph sighs and murmurs something too low to hear. No subtlety with children, no subtlety with gods.

_You are conscious of the fact that I have not limited my powers completely, are you not?  
_

‘I am, I wanted you to hear that.’ He replies, looking back to the book he dropped in the beginning. He finally remembers what he was reading about, it was something on the Cult of the Great Dragon. ‘The Ministry of State is recruiting new diplomats and I thought I’d try my luck. Since I helped ending the war, I might as well try to bring peace.’

_I am pleased by your growth, Joseph. This will not be the last conversation we have, though I fear my kind is facing its own challenges and I cannot tell when we will have another opportunity._

‘I.. oh.’ His smile fades. ‘But we will talk again, right?’

_I will do my utmost to make it a reality. Farewell._

‘Until next time… friend.’


	10. One last thought

‘Am I dead?’

_Not yet, Child._

‘I can’t remember anything. Where am I?’

_You are somewhere safe. Soothe your worries._

‘I… I’ll trust you, but.. who are you?’

_I am not one of your brethren, though I’ve been seeing your kind from afar for a very long time._

He looks around, but his eyes are covered by clouds. ‘Why can’t I see anything?’

_The answer shall come to your soon, Child. My favor has granted you one last thought._

‘One last- what?’

Memories start rushing in. Two were running ahead of him, loud bangs, screaming, the pain and then… nothing. From red to black.

‘I was shot.’ He says succintly.

_You were._

‘I’m dead.’

_I fear the time of your physical existence has passed, you are right. Though you shall live in memories._

He looks around again. The clouds are getting thicker. Thinking is getting harder too. ‘How much time to I have left?’

_I cannot grant you much longer. I have come to guard you, Child._

‘Guard me?’ It’s the Wolf. He really is dead. ‘Sandae.’

 _I hope my presence does not displease you. I seek to do you no harm or cause discomfort_.

Gods worried about the passing of humans. He can’t help being touched by it, but he has no eyes to shed tears. Everything is gone now, but the others are still-

‘Joseph?’

_Is that the name of your companion?_

‘He was running in front of me. I tried to warn him, is he-’

_He lives. I have come to keep you company and you alone._

Joseph survived. He can’t remember the name of the other one, but Sandae’s words bring him hope.

‘Can I ask you something?’ He asks. Sandae has no need to grant favors to lowly mortals, but trying wouldn’t do any harm. Nothing could be taken from him now.

_If it is within my power, Child, I will see it done._

‘My mom, she.. She won’t understand. She doesn’t understand the war, she won’t take-’

_Your mother was not please by your decision to fight beside your brethren._

‘She wasn’t. How did you know?’

_I have been watching, Child, from the inception to the conclusion. I shall converse with her, should she acknowledge me. I have no wish to force my will upon your kind._

He smiles softly. ‘I’m glad…’.

_It saddens me that your time must pass, but I fear it is something not even We can dominate._

‘It’s fine. I’m glad it ends with you.’

_Do you regret partaking in the Conflict?_

‘The war? I only regret not seeing it end. Will it even end?’

_The future is for the mortals to create, not Us. Rest, Child. You have earned peace._


	11. Chapter 11

‘Hey, Sarge?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Has William always been.. you know.’ The soldier mimics something vague, likely trying to express something he has no words for. ‘Like that.’

The older of the two, a grizzled NCO, glances at his younger fellow and lifts his eyebrow. ‘What peaked ‘ya interest, Alaerean?’

He shakes his head. ‘It’s nothing in particular, I just heard some of the servants talking about how much he’s changed. Figured since you’ve been in the Service the longest, you might know.’

‘Ya callin’ me old, Corporal?’

The soldier chokes for a moment but quickly regains his composure, to no avail - no detail escapes the eye of the Guard. _But_ not all of them are a stuck up bunch.

That’s why the NCO was laughing. ‘Pfffft, Alaereans. ‘Ya always act like ‘ya have a stick up ‘ya arse. Back in Nieson we’d eat ‘ya alive, y’know, Corporal?’ But he stops, for a moment. ‘He hasn’t. Not at all.’

He tilts his head. ‘What changed?’

The older man lets out a long, drawn-out breath through his nose. ‘If ‘ya must know. Y’know the basics of arcane threats, yeah?’

He nods. ‘Mhm.’

‘Then ‘ya know how dangerous spatial-temporal ones are, hm? Have ‘ya ever heard of the Red Gazer? Know what it does?’

‘I’m.. afraid not, Sergeant. I am not that versed in the anomalies.’

The Sergeant chuckles. ‘ _The ‘gazer eats ‘ya, son._ It tears a hole open behind ‘ya and tries to drag ‘ya in to eat ‘ya. Caldwell brought Willy to do a man’s job and he was an idiot, yeah, but that ain’t the issue. Whatever brought its attention there _is_. Its appearance ain’t ever accidental and the deaths that freak caused that day weren’t either, y’know.’

The younger man blinks. ‘The Red Gazer was at the Shallows when the incident happened? But, how does that relate-’

‘Ya’ve seen his leg, haven’t ‘ya?’ The NCO quickly shoots back, leaving no time for respites. ‘Think about how fun it must be for a kid, havin’ his leg dragged into a dark hole and munched on by somethin’ with an ugly mug for a face. Will nearly got _his_ bitten off, while ‘ya’re at it.’ The Sergeant sighs. ‘We lost plenty of good people that day and William was one of them. Sure, we brought back a body, but not a soul. That’s what changed, Corporal. That’s why ya got told to shut up and not stare at him limpin’ or fix ‘ya gaze on the scars whenever ‘ya can see them.’

‘I’ve heard people say you were the one who saved him.’

The Sergeant breathes in and grins. ‘That’s some of the bullshit that gets spread around, right?’


	12. Fear

You are awakened in the middle of the night. Though your room is darkened, your senses remain acute and sharp - a blessing from the arcane, in _your_ view.

This is no regular bout of insomnia. 

Something makes you restless, your heart flutters and jumps, your eyelids are as heavy as stone, your skin burns and you… _You must run._

You get out of bed - there’s no time to waste. Little thought is spared to the clothes you take, you feel as if you won’t need them for long. You do not know what causes the restlessness within - as if your blessing is now a curse - but for some reason your mind prevents you from focusing on it.

Your aid approaches you and asks ‘What’s wrong?’, his feelings genuine but all you can muster is a simple

‘Don’t know, I’m going out for a walk. Don’t bother with the detail, it won’t be long.’

‘Should I go with you, Warden?’

‘Stay. You’re safer here.’

You don’t know what he’s safer from. You don’t know why, though you’d be safer here, you are going out.

You leave the house, nonetheless.

Flashes light the sky as Alaerean bombers and artillery shell the Imperial lines and you remember what the first time was like, you felt _fear_ and that’s it!

Fear woke you up. But, what of?

Your senses have never been sharper but you feel as though you’ve gone deaf. You’ve heard stories of people speaking to the Gods, their sensations failing as a feeling of helplessness and irrelevance fills their minds and you desperately wish this was the case - but no divine voice reaches you.

As you walk away from the building, your eyesight worsens and your mind grinds itself into a standstill as you desperately attempt to tune yourself with abilities that once felt as natural and intrinsic as your breathing. You can’t.

The house’s lights can barely be seen in the distance, though the destruction of your Home has no qualms against lighting your pathway. How vulnerable.

‘Greetings, Warden.’

You are nothing but a helpless creature being hunted by something far larger, far smarter than you. That is how you feel. That is what the shadow is.

‘Who are you?’, you ask the shadow. 

‘Does it matter?’

Your sorcery is illusionary. Your mind cannot be tricked by children’s dabbles in things they do not understand. Your fear is justified.

You stand silent as the shadow gazes you, expecting a response. When it understands none is coming, it continues.

‘I’ve heard Wardens are some of the most powerful people the ICA has, but jeesh - how dumb do you have to be to take a lone stroll in the woods during a War?’

The shadow continues, but you stop listening. You know it’s right - how irrational it was to come out at this time, alone. It’s why you’re desperately trying to conjure something to allow your escape. You can’t.

The shadow laughs.

‘Good luck with that, friend. Even Young would have a hard time bringing out a tiny fireball with that thing so near to us.’

 _It_ is the source of your irrationality. Something so intrinsic and natural, taken from you. This cannot stand. The Grand Warden must be warned, the Enemy is nearer than you thought and we are in dan-

Your reasoning is cut short. 

You cannot breathe.

Your lungs fill with blood, your knees buckle under the weight they lift daily, you collapse.

You cannot breathe.

The shadow breathes.

The shadow wins.


	13. Fracture

'That is ridiculous!’ Byrne shouts. ‘Dissolving the ICA?!’

‘I’m just saying it’s the safer course of action.’ Pachemary argues. ‘Full system breaches that compromised its systems and facilities during the War, one of its leading members disappears and years later we find his corpse? The Academy’s gone rotten-‘

‘Fuck off, Lucian. You’re nothing but a power hoarder, trying to break apart one of the few things capable of facing the VSS.’

‘Careful, Chris. Such accusations are-‘

‘Enough.’ The Crown speaks and the Ministers wind down, muttering and lowering their sights.

Michael sighs. Ending the War should’ve have been the biggest challenge, but life keeps proving him wrong. ‘Arthur, you’ve been awfully quiet.’

Young smiles faintly. ‘I’ve just been thinking.. I thought the meetings with the Council of Wardens were bad, but…’ He stares at Lucian and Byrne, deadpan. ‘I never thought I’d see the Emperor being the mother of two men-children. It’s hilarious.’

Here it comes.

Nieson, who was too far gone with _plenty_ Linerean wine in his bloodstream, is the first to spit the rest of his drink out, with most of it soaking Michael’s hair. He does not react.

Pachemary’s turn is next. As Lucian tries to rush to the Emperor to… try to aid in whatever way possible, he spills his own cup of wine and ends up ruining Minister of Finance Albert Safire’s _very_ expensive suit, with the Minister limiting himself to a mute scream and a look of horror.

Byrne is just laughing his ass off.

Michael, on the other hand, is trying to process. He can’t. He gets up from his chair, not sparing another glance at the mess unrolling in front of him, and leaves the room with Young tailing him.

Once they’ve removed themselves from… that, Michael relaxes. ‘There were easier ways to get me out of the room, you know.’

Arthur nods. ‘Apologies, Your Majesty, I couldn’t think of anything else that would stop Byrne from choking Pachemary to death.’

He laughs heartily. ‘My hair was the only remarkable casualty. Get to it, then.’

The Grand Warden nods again. ‘Splitting the ICA is… controversial. I myself have wondered if it’s a good idea to concentrate in a single Agency the containment efforts and arcane regulation. Like I said, there’s no consensus in the Council on how to proceed to replace Portsmouth.’

‘Was he a traitor?’ Michael asks.

‘No, Sir. I assure you the ICA was loyal during the War and it still is. Portsmouth’s murder-‘

‘It’s been confirmed, then?’

‘Yes, Sir. It’s unlikely that Portsmouth getting lost in the woods after leaving his safehouse would justify the bullets we found in his corpse.’

Michael’s gaze darkens. ‘I see. It might be dangerous to try and hold the Alaereans accountable since the peace is barely a few months old.’

Arthur shakes his head, gesturing for Michael to turn left, toward the Outer Gardens. Guards quickly form up beside them. ‘It couldn’t have been the Alaereans, Sir. I knew Portsmouth, his abilities were remarkable and the arcane was intrinsic to him. He should’ve been able to defend himself.’

‘And you don’t think the Alaereans had the resources needed to get something capable of killing a Warden past our lines?’

Arthur shakes his head. ‘What is worrisome is that the Academy found no traces of resistance. Our arcane troopers in the area reported… difficulties in remaining conscious. The fact that Portsmouth was coherent enough to take the stroll on his own accord is remarkable.’

‘Is it an anomaly?’ Michael says.

‘Maybe, Sir. Maybe it’s something else. The last time I spoke to Portsmouth, he was conducting his own investigation. He thought there was another enemy, beyond the Alaereans and the Linereans, responsible for the system breaches. I thought it was sleep deprivation and paranoia at the time but now I’m… not sure.’

‘Do you think they killed him?’

‘And breached our systems, yes. I’m certain it was how they discovered where he was hiding.’ Arthur remarks. ‘I should have listened.’

Arthur is holding himself accountable for Portsmouth’s fate, Michael thinks, but there’s no time to take care of that now. ‘Portsmouth will be honored as the devoted servant of the Empire he was, we’ll see to it. How should we proceed regarding the ICA?’

‘I don’t know, Sir. There’s always been the risk of the Academy becoming a State within the State, ever since we were allowed our own levies hundreds of years ago, but… fracturing would weaken us if Portsmouth’s enemy isn’t a product of his paranoia. Especially considering the aid were granting the ‘O’ Agency.’ He states. One of the brightest minds in the Empire, incapable of finding a solution.

‘I will… sleep over the issue. Thank you, Arthur.’


	14. On Seraph-Human Relations Post-Convention

> _By Professor Dr. Marceli Chowaniec_
> 
> _New Republican University of Pryzstan_
> 
> _College of Human Sciences, Department of Anthropology, Cultural Anthropology Study Group_

As I'm sure you know, after peace was brokered by Makae and his Dragons between the belligerents of the Pre-Convention War, the Seraphim seemingly isolated themselves to their territories further north, with no attempts to expand their land.

(…)

Most scholars have generally agreed that the Seraphim adopted a general isolationist stance in regards to foreign affairs, with no interest in meddling with Human, Vampiric or Elven affairs. In this essay, however, I propose otherwise: the Seraphim are not nearly as isolationist or uninterested as they seem, for we have been restricting ourselves to a Human look upon affairs and trying to apply it to them. It might be too bold of me, as the “ _anthropo_ ” in Anthropology certainly clarifies that I am no expert on the Seraphim as a whole, but allow me to dissert on our more-angelic brethren.

As it is known, Seraph society is divided upon “spheres”, a classification that would be far closer to our concept of a caste system: First Sphere Seraphim, the most prominent of these being Prince Michael and Prince Uriel, are the ruling class of the Seraph Territories; Second Sphere Seraphim, are the “lower” ruling classes, bringing together the Lords (war-focused) and Overseers (administration/diplomacy-focused) and so on. Though we, Humans, are abhorred by this method of social organization, it is widely accepted among the Seraphim and there have been no notable attempts at reorganization.

Let us not, however, lose ourselves in a social analysis of the Seraphim, for it is not the purpose of this essay. I wish to go back in time, to the Convention, so that you and I, together, may wonder what brought them to this so called “isolation”? Did they really seek to abandon their allies?

I argue otherwise and, to justify my case, I present to you the issues of the Umbrian Kingdom. As you know, Seraphim have repeatedly aided the Republics of Schussland, Zitadeland and Aufreland in their Wars against the Umbrian Vampires. Further, they have led their own punitive expeditions against Umbria whenever it seemed they were overstepping whatever Seraph boundaries had been established! What could possibly justify this? Therein lies my argument:

The Seraphs are no isolationists, they merely have a different outlook on society. Just as we are now abhorred by their castes, they too were abhorred by the outcome of Post-Convention Human and Elven geopolitical machinations. To them, division is unnatural, and Humanity willingly divided itself into several nations that war among each other. Cultural and ethnic differences are alien to the Seraph and, to him, there is the human from Voltarea and the human from Caldia, whether they call themselves Voltareans or Caldians is indifferent. According to the Seraph outlook on foreign affairs, Humanity has been on a perpetual Civil War ever since the Convention was brokered by the Dragons. My argument is sustained by the Umbrian example: the Seraphim do not see this as a war between four different countries, they see it as a conflict between Humans and Vampires, and act accordingly in defense of their allies.

(…)


	15. Gabriel Struggles

Gabriel has always struggled.

Back then, when Michael and Luciel were leading the fight against the Enemy, she struggled to understand the latter's fascination with humanity and their self-destructive quirks. She thinks it's those quirks that made him so self-destructive and, sometimes, it's hard to not let resentment cloud her judgement, but she can still do it. It's not ideal, but it's what she manages.

When she got word of a new Prince, Uriel, she felt strength within her, in a way she hadn't felt in centuries. He'd been born from a human mother, Michael told her, and they left it at that. None of them needed to know more, it was enough for Uriel to have them all trapped in his hand.

Luciel was enamored by the child the most, at first. Gabriel wouldn't say she felt envy (perhaps she did), but her brother understood the younger seraph in a way she, Michael, Raphael and all the others didn't. She might have felt some regret at not following Luciel's interest in humanity - she certainly struggled to understand Uriel's temperament - but she still loved him. They all did.

When her time to slumber came, she struggled again. Luciel was gone, driven off by whatever craze got hold of his mind. Azrael refused to leave the Gates to Eden, like she always has since her fallout with Michael, who will be far too busy trying to hold Eden itself as its head to take care of Uriel the way he deserved. He was still so young and corrupted by his human temperament, who would take care of their little brother? But, in the end, she'd have to trust Michael. She had no other option.

Now that she's returned, she struggles once more. To take Michael's place. To take Uriel _from_ Michael's place. At such a young age, it will break him.

Raphael tells her not to worry, that Uriel is far greater than any of them. She wants to trust him, just like she wants to trust Uriel and just like she trusted his mother not to die before her time came. But she did.

So, Gabriel struggles. Like she always has.


End file.
